


Ojo por ojo, diente por diente

by Levimycorpus



Category: Sicario (2015)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5325422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levimycorpus/pseuds/Levimycorpus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If thrown in the unforgiving wilderness, a puppy will need to fend for itself. It will either die, or it will adapt. Kate Macer would adapt. She would never roll on her belly and play dead for a treat. No, when thrown into the wild, Kate Macer would become a wolf. </p>
<p>A three-part potential continuation of Sicario’s storyline, in which Kate does not follow Alejandro’s advice of moving to a small town. Rather dark. Contains language, sexuality, violence and death. Does not contain much of a romantic relationship between Alejandro and Kate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ojo por ojo, diente por diente

**PART I: _Canis Lupus Familiaris_**

_May 6 th, 2015_

Even after eighteen months, Reggie still felt conflicted about his career choices. Joining the esteemed Special Weapons and Tactics Team, he had expected high-risk arrests, assaults, and hell, even counterterrorism. Those situations all involved an enemy that had to be intercepted, preferably alive, but not necessarily. That, he had no problem with. After having been to Afghanistan, he knew damn well how to engage an enemy and was not afraid to do so.

Hostage Rescue was something else, though. While the enemy was still very much present, there was also the added pressure of having to protect and release those who had been taken. When his SWAT team succeeded at that, Reggie fucking loved his branch. There was no better feeling than the knowledge of having directly helped in the saving of lives. Such tangible gratification was truly specific to this branch of the tactical teams.

Most often though, when the mission failed and the hostages didn’t make it… well, those days Reggie usually wound up intoxicating his liver while half-consciously pondering his life choices.

Every once in a while, Kate would join in, but she didn’t make a habit of it. Reggie was impressed with her resilience. Up until recently, she didn’t smoke, barely drank, and was always up for the job. She was the senior partner, and he was the pup. Thankfully, they had had no problem getting along. On his good days, he was easy-going and fun, which Kate appreciated. She had always enjoyed his humor. She, on the other hand, was quiet and more reserved. Unlike previous partners of hers, he had never tried to force his personality onto her. He hadn’t pestered her with questions and hadn’t intruded in her personal space. They had understood each other from the start and had quickly grown fond of one another. They formed a solid team, if Reggie thought so himself. She seemed to agree and, on their “one year anniversary”, as they liked to call it, they had gotten tattoos to celebrate their surprisingly fructuous partnership. Both moderately drunk and in a hurry to get it done, they had unoriginally decided to ink some military tanks on themselves. He had demanded it on his chest, and she on her ankle. While they had both somewhat regretted the impaired decision the next morning, they had laughed it off and had grown to like their cheap tats.

Reggie would often find himself smiling when thinking about that night. Few of the memories they shared were pleasant, and he sure as hell would cherish the ones that were.

Recently, with everything that had been happening, he had reflected on their time as partners. Now, more so than ever, he realized that he didn’t know all that much about her. He wished she’d let him in more, but knew better than to push it. Of course, he knew some things, but a lot had been learned by accident. Rarely would she simply open up to him by herself. Answers had to be worked for, and often had to be pieced together. Yes, he was definitely aware of his lack of knowledge when it came to Kate and, for that particular reason, he wasn’t prone to judging her. After all, he was a rational man who tried to form an opinion only when knowing all the variables. Besides, he respected his partner, and felt it simply wasn’t his place to judge her.

Still, sometimes, he just had to.

Here he was, beaten, black-eyed and with a gun up in his face, unashamedly judging the living shit out of Kate. Looking down at the bullshit statement she had signed, more than likely under the same circumstances, he wondered how long she had resisted. Her signature was rough and shaky. He hoped she was okay.

Furious, yet wholly aware of his lack of a choice in this situation, he scribbled down his name next to hers, prompting Alejandro to finally get the hell out of his apartment. When he heard his door shut, Reggie’s last thoughts were of Kate, as he wondered _what in the love of fuck_ the woman had gotten herself into and _why on God’s Earth_ he had followed.

 

* * *

 

_Muerto._

_El Verdugo está muerto._

¿ _Qué?_

Darío Mendosa had heard the news before even being fully awake, thinking it must’ve been a dream. Various thoughts rushed through his mind, more so than his tired state could handle. _Dead?_ _El Verdugo?_

By noon, everyone and their _putas_ of mothers would know. They would know that Fausto Alarcón had been killed, along with that woman of his and their boys, right at his dinner table, in the middle of his grand fucking fortress. If even the surveilled, secluded palace wasn’t enough, then truly no one was safe. Not even the King himself.

Yes, Fausto Alarcón was dead. Shot, Darío had been told, which he thought was all too merciful. If anyone should’ve gotten it slow and painful, it was El Verdugo. He had more than likely witnessed his wife and children die at least, and Darío wondered who had killed him in such fashion. It felt so personal, yet somewhat clean. It was rather unexpected, at least for Darío, who had always imagined the King would drop dead either at the hand of his own men, fighting for his crown, or at the hand of Los Zetas.

Yet, no one had come forward to claim responsibility for Alarcón’s head. Had it been the Zetas, those _hijos de putas_ would’ve screamed it on every rooftop of the city. And if it had been some of their own people, they would already be governing the Sinaloa cartel. Well, no such thing had happened. In fact, the future of Sinaloa was more uncertain than ever, as most of the chain of command had been wiped out.

El Verdugo was indeed dead. Their connection on the other side of the border, that Manuel Díaz man, was also dead. His brother, Guillermo Díaz, was as good as dead.

In one night, more than thirty-five members of Sinaloa had died, and millions of dollars had been seized. Everything had changed. At least another dozen high-ranked members had fled the country after the carnage, fearing prosecution.

_Cowards_ _, pussies and vermin,_ Darío thought.

Swallowing his black coffee rapidly, he wondered where to go from there and, most importantly, who to trust. Aside from him, who was left? He could already hear the whispers. He could smell the hope in the air. El Verdugo and half of the men who mattered in the cartel were gone, and everyone would hope it would be the end of it. And it could very well be. If he didn’t act now, Sinaloa would quickly shatter and dismantle, and Darío would not have that. No, Sinaloa, once the most important cartel in all of goddamn Mexico, would not fall to pieces.

Besides, if he did nothing and Sinaloa did shatter, Los Zetas would waste no time picking at the pieces. Those filthy vultures would come after their turf almost as fast as they could come on their own mothers. Darío had no patience for those disgusting animals. He would die rather than see them take over Sinaloa territory.

To prevent it, Darío came to the conclusion that he would have to lead Sinaloa. He would need to gain the respect and trust of the remaining members, and he would need to do it now. More so than ever, the scattered remains of Sinaloa needed to regroup, and they needed a common trajectory to do so, which Darío would gladly offer. He would do the honorable thing. And he would gain all the respect he needed.

It was simple, really. He would avenge Alarcón, their fallen King.  

Of course, no one was weeping for El Verdugo. Anyone who might’ve ever done so had died right at that dinner table, alongside him. Everyone else hated the man, if a man he could even be called. All lived in fear of him, and none dared to speak ill of him. Darío doubted that any of that would change, even after his death.

So, he would go after the ones who had killed the _esteemed_ _and grand_ leader that no one would admit to despise. Most importantly though, he would hunt down the ones who had hurt Sinaloa. And he would make them pay, in true cartel fashion. They would be awarded no clean bullets to the head, _oh no._

 

* * *

 

Less than an hour after his coffee, Darío had made his way to the _Centro Medico de Sonora_ , in Nogales. He had arranged to speak with a survivor of the tunnel massacre, and was determined to find out what he knew.

Upon entering his room, he was struck by its smell. Blood, urine, feces and sweat. He was used to such foul odors, being no stranger to torturing enemies for long periods of time, but it certainly didn’t help his irritable mood. He found one of the few survivors on a stretcher, seemingly in agony. He had been shot multiple times in the abdomen, and Darío knew all too well what a slow, messy way to die it was. Nonetheless, he approached the man.

“ _I’m Darío Mendosa, you know who I am?_ ” The man nodded weakly. “ _Then tell me, who did this to you?_ ” The man slowly shrugged and shook his head.

“No lo sé, señor,” he tried to answer, clearly having trouble speaking, “americanos... hablaban inglés.” He already seemed out of breath, but continued nevertheless, “ _…they had a lot of guns, vests, everything. Military m-maybe._..” He paused, attempting a deep inhalation, only for it to be followed by a grunt. Everything seemed to hurt the man. “ _I think…_ ” he difficultly began, barely even whispering, “ _The two from the bank were there…_ ” Despite the scent, Daríoleaned in, trying to hear him, “…el negro y la mujer,” he managed to finish.

Darío nodded, and stepped back, satisfied. This was more than he had hoped for; an actual, tangible lead with people he could find. Yes, Darío was rather content. He quickly thanked what was left of the man, and was about to leave the ill-smelling room, but the man went on.

“Escuché murmullos,” his faint voice rose, “...de Medellín.”

Murmurs...  of Medellín?

Darío fought back the urge to laugh. The Medellín cartel had collapsed more than two decades ago. Everyone knew that México had long since replaced Colombia on all fronts of narco-trafficking. _Yes, I’m sure the Colombians are back from their graves,_ he thought, believing the survivor was either mentally unstable, an understandable possibility given in his current state, or simply gullible. Either way, he was quite wrong.

Shaking his head, Darío gladly exited the room. He had a lot of work to do, and no time for the fairy tales of a dead man. While Medellín was long gone, Sinaloa was not. After today, it would stand tall again.

_And Pablo Escobar could kiss my ass._

* * *

 

Just a few hours later, a pleased Darío exited the bank in question with two names and one purpose on his mind: finding these two gringos. He had crossed the border to visit the bank, and the trip had proved worth its while. After some threats here and some payments there, he had managed to acquire two names and two addresses. The hard part was mostly done. Soon would come the exciting part. He just needed to find them first.

As it turned out, both the gringos lived in Chandler, and Darío was already on his way.

First, he thought, _la puta._

 

* * *

 

Saying that Matt Graver was enjoying his day would’ve been a severe understatement. So far, he had slept in, had shamelessly ordered Chinese for breakfast, and had spent the beginning of his day doing a whole lot of nothing. After yesterday, rest was not only welcome, but well-deserved in his opinion. He was pretty thrilled with how the mission had gone, as well as with himself. He hadn’t expected their passage through the Nogales tunnel to be quite so smooth. Aside from the petty incident with Kate, everything had gone better than he could’ve anticipated, and he proudly held himself accountable for that. Thanks to him, all was better than ever and, with a bit of luck, the Sinaloa cartel would soon be history. Matt had spent a good portion of his morning daydreaming about that.  

_On May 5 th, 2015, a Delta Force unit, led by CIA agent Matt Graver, prompted the dismantlement of the largest drug cartel in Mexico’s history, the Sinaloa cartel, with no casualties to be had in the American unit._

Oh yes, Matt did like the sound of that. And with the signatures of those two whiny children of SWAT, he would be in the clear. It’s not every day you destroy a drug empire and manage to do so by the books. But somehow Matt had achieved it, or so everyone would think. Hell, his pride might even trick him into believing he had done absolutely nothing wrong. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

A knock on his door brought him back down on Earth, with the exception perhaps of his ego. Wearing nothing but pajama pants, he made his way through the mess that was his house and opened the door. At last, it was Alejandro.

“Took your sweet time, huh?” he said, letting him in, “Didn’t really have time to chat yesterday, but I just wanted to tell you that you did good, yeah. Real fucking good. Got them all, smooth as butter,” he snickered.

Alejandro didn’t answer. He had come to give Graver the statement and had no particular desire to engage in small talk with the man. Retrieving the paper from his jacket, he handed it to Graver, who more than happily took it.

“Well my day just keeps getting better and better. Two signatures, just perfect. And look what I have here: two glasses. What is this, if not destiny? Come on, let’s drink to a flawless operation, yeah?”

“No, thank you,” Alejandro replied, rather dryly, “I don’t make a habit of drinking under the midday sun.”

“Okay, okay, no need to be all high and mighty, just suit yourself,” Matt replied, already halfway through his first glass, “So, how’d the pups take it? Poor little Kate seemed so bent on ‘telling the truth’ yesterday and yet,” he grinned, waving the statement in the air, “here she is, the sweet little thing. Guess puppies always listen to their masters in the end, huh?”

Again, Alejandro kept silent. He wasn’t under the impression that he had given her or that Reggie much of a choice. _Besides,_ _wolf, pup or otherwise, it doesn’t really matter when there’s a gun to your head. There’s only the survival instinct left then._

And yet, Kate had somewhat surprised him earlier this morning. He had been impressed at how long she had refused to sign the goddamn paper, and even more so at how she had boldly pointed her weapon at him. She had done so, even after he had explicitly told her never to point a gun at him again, right after he had shot her. Of course, he knew she didn’t have it in her to return the favor, that much was obvious, but he hadn’t expected such resistance from her, if any. Yes, it seemed the girl was tougher than she appeared.

Even so, he vaguely hoped she would heed his advice. Whatever resilience she may have displayed was still far from enough for the world he had grown accustomed to.

 

* * *

 

It was mid-afternoon, and Kate was lying in an unfamiliar bed, staring absently at the ceiling of her hotel room. As soon as she had regained the ability to think, following Alejandro’s departure, she had booked herself into a small hotel, under a fake name. He had shaken her to her very core, and she no longer felt safe in the apartment he had so easily penetrated.               

For the past hours, she had found herself unable to do anything, too overwhelmed with thoughts of the past two days. She had thus taken refuge in the queen sized bed of her room where, isolated with herself, she was slowly being consumed by guilt, fear and disgust.

The dead were on her mind, as she recalled all the people they had killed, without any actual jurisdiction. Without any _right_. She thought of them, of their families. Of how they would never see justice, because their operation had been “by the books”.

She thought of how, with the simple touch of a pen, she had chosen herself over them. How she had somehow decided that her life was worth more than all of theirs combined. So what if they had been members or affiliates of the cartels? By signing that pact with the Devil, she had committed a felony herself. She was no better than them, in any regard. Yet, she had decided that she was.

She rubbed her itchy eyes. She had spent a good portion of the day crying, but it hadn’t done much to help. The weight of her actions still crushed her conscience. She could physically feel the guilt, its burden accompanying each rise and fall of her chest. When she couldn’t stand to think of the illegality of her actions anymore, she attempted to think preemptively. What would she do now? What _should_ she do?

Alejandro’s voice came to mind. _You should move to a small town._

She could practically still feel the gun pressed under her chin; she could still feel her heart against her ribs and her shaky legs. She remembered his steady finger on the trigger and his deep, soothing voice, with a simple command. _Sign it_.

She remembered how his rough hand had unceremoniously wiped the tears off her cheeks. He had been so calm, so at ease, and she had been nothing but a mess. Even now, hours later, she was still terrorized and unable to sleep, eat, or even think properly.

_You will not survive here. You are not a wolf._

She was inclined to agree with him. Even with her extensive SWAT training and her years of field experience, she had so easily yielded. After all, she should’ve been prepared for this. And yet, never had she felt more vulnerable and exposed than earlier this morning, when the security of her home had been breached, and she was left without her armor and weapon. In that moment, Alejandro had seen right through her, and she had broken like glass under his pressure.

Where had it been this morning, this iron will she once was so proud of?

Kate closed her eyes and sighed. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but knew sleep would not welcome her, not in this emotional state.

_Enough,_ she finally thought. She had sulked for long enough. She slowly rolled out of bed and sat on the edge of it, her hands absentmindedly stroking the soft sheets. Reluctantly and difficultly, she got up and made her way to the bathroom, her ribs still aching. Once inside, she stood in front of the mirror, glaring at her reflection.

She looked like shit, there was no use in sugarcoating it.

Her right eye was still red and swollen, seemingly absorbing all the blood from her sickly white face. Dark circles and sunken cheekbones were casting unattractive shadows that made her look more dead than alive, with the strangulation marks on her neck only completing the picture. Looking at herself, she felt uneasy. This was not the appearance of a healthy, young woman.

It was the treacherous face of her cowardice.

Repelled by the sight, she gave in and dropped her gaze. She needed to clear her mind. To the best of her capacity, she shifted her thoughts to her breathing, concentrating on her diaphragm, just like she had been taught.

Contract and expand.

_Calm. Down._

Exhale and inhale.

_Calm. Down._

This went on for a few minutes. Then, perhaps in a desperate attempt to drown away her sorrows, she splashed cool water on her face exhaustively, until it felt tingly and slightly numb. Refreshed, yet not feeling particularly better, she returned to the bedroom, unsure of what to do next. Scanning the room, she found in its corner the bag she had hurriedly packed and left with. While she didn’t know what to do with her life anymore, to the point of even doubting who she was, she could at the very least decide that a change of clothes was in order.

Putting on clean, yet outworn and discolored brassiere, she briefly recalled Reggie’s opinion on her seemingly catastrophic “bra situation”. While he might not have been wrong, buying lingerie and clothing was certainly not a current concern of Kate’s.

(But of course, priorities were prone to change. Just one week from now, for Reggie, she would be wearing a lovely lace bra under a newly-bought black dress. Naturally, she couldn’t have known it yet, and the idea would’ve seemed absurd to her now.)

Once fully dressed, she considered it was perhaps time to reconnect with the rest of the world. While she didn’t want to talk to anybody, she reckoned she probably owed Reggie a phone call. Finding her cellphone in the pocket of her bag, she turned it on, only to be assaulted by several missed calls and messages from her partner.

 

_–You have (4) missed calls and (10) unread messages–_

 

10:48 AM –

_Hey, your buddy Alejandro just payed me a visit, made me sign the same paper as you. You ok?_

 

11:13 AM –

_Where are you? Im still home. Answer your phone._

11:42 AM –

_Macer, are you ok?_

11:45 AM –

_hello?_

12:48 PM –

_You don’t answer in the next half hour and Im going to your place._

 

13:26 PM –

_Ok im going. answer me!_

13:49 PM –

_you’re not answering your door or your phone fuck tell me anything_

_13:52 PM –_

_where are you? youre not home and Emma said she hasnt heard from you_

_13:57 PM –_

_I’m waiting for you here._

_16:03 PM –_

_tell me you’re alright_

“Oh, shit,” Kate said out loud. “SHIT!”

She immediately dialed his number, hating herself for not having thought of him at all. _Of course they would need his signature as well, how the fuck did I miss this?_

_Oh, he’s gonna kill me._

“KATE?” he answered by the second ring, “Christ, are you alright?!”

“Yeah, I’m fine! I’m fine, Reg. I’m so sorry, I just saw your messages, I can’t believe I didn’t think of calling you earlier, I–”

“You had me fucking dying over here! What the fuck, Kate? Jesus!” he screamed, fuming. She heard him sigh in exasperation, only raise his voice again, “The hell happened to you this morning?!”

Kate closed her eyes, not really wanting to think about any of this anymore. “Uh, Alejandro, he broke into my apartment to...  _convince_ me to sign a fake statement, you know, with his gun.” She said, rubbing her forehead, “You?”

“Pretty much the same.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

They were momentarily quiet, both clearly preoccupied. Reggie then broke the silence, “So you’re alright. You’re fine, right? You’re not hurt– and here the fuck are you?”

“I’m not hurt, I‘m fine. Took a room at the Bright Horse earlier, I just– just couldn’t stay home. But yeah, I’m good. And you?”

“Fine too. Except for being worried sick about you, for the love of God! I’ve been at your place for two fucking hours, waiting for you to tell me you’re alive or something, Christ.”

“I know…” Kate whispered, ashamed, “I’m _really_ sorry,” she weakly finished, finding nothing better to say. She was at a loss of words, and thankfully he pushed her no further. He eventually calmed down, and asked what room she was settled in, saying he’d meet her there, after paying a visit to Jennings.

“107,” she answered.

“Alright. Want me to bring you back anything, while I’m still here? ”

“No, I’m good. Thanks, for everything. And sorry for freaking you out.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. We gotta figure this shit out together. Jennings might be able to help, I don’t know, I’ll see what he has to say. Okay, I’m gonna go, I’ll put your spare key back under the mat.”

“Thank you.”

“Shitty hiding spot, by the way. Really, could it be more obvious?”

Kate shook her head, but couldn’t stop the faintest of smiles from spreading momentarily on her face. Once their goodbyes had been exchanged and the line was dead, she retreated to the comforting warmth of the bed, surprisingly feeling ever so slightly better.

 

* * *

 

Darío’s afternoon had initially been disappointing, especially following his rather productive morning. He’d travelled hundreds of kilometers, only to be greeted by the empty apartment of the _puta_ he was trying to find. For more than an hour he had waited outside of her place, in his van, with his men, and she had not shown her pretty little face. _Whose cock could she sucking on that’s taking so long?_   

Darío was not a particularly patient man, and the delay was very much challenging his nerves. He contemplated abandoning his post and trying to find _el negro_ , but this _puta_ was worth much more to him. According to a source from the bank, she had been more involved in the operation than her male counterpart.

Most importantly though, she was a _mujer_ , and while cartels typically dealt with men, it was clear that this bitch needed to be put down.

Killing a woman, while unusual even for him, would show just how ruthless he was, which would help him dominate Sinaloa. It would also illustrate that _no one_ could fuck with his cartel, and that _anyone_ who did would die, but only after having experienced the sweet agony of desperately wishing to die.

Oh, how he had been looking forward to gutting this woman. Her absence was thoroughly dissatisfying him, and with each passing minute his frustration grew. Eventually, if he couldn’t have her, he decided that _el negro_ would be better than _nada_. He didn’t have all day after all, and he needed to act as quickly as possible if he wanted to rally Sinaloa, which was losing more members by the hour. 

As he was about to tell his men to drive off, an anxious Reggie Wayne reached the _puta_ ’s building, promptly entering it, simultaneously surprising everyone in the van. This particular turn of events, which Darío could only describe as an act of Fate, not only lifted his spirits, but confirmed to him that this was indeed meant to be. Yes, it was clear that he had made the right decision, which could only mean that he would soon govern his cartel.

Darío found himself smiling as he watched his prey enter the building. This time, the wait barely even bothered him. Because this time, it was in anticipation. 

 

* * *

 

Alejandro was growing increasingly tired of hearing Graver prattle. He had stopped listening to him some while ago, absolutely uninterested in his idealistic plans to decimate Los Zetas. He had unsuccessfully tried to excuse himself from the agent’s home, but Graver had told him to stay put, on the pretext that they needed to talk about the future of their arrangement.

Graver had indeed held up his part of the bargain, allowing Alejandro to off Alarcón with no legal repercussions. Now, Alejandro basically belonged to Graver, for as long as the man needed him.

Alejandro hadn’t foreseen just how much this prospect would bother him. At the time of their agreement, he had been blinded by his need for blood and, now that it had been quenched, he wanted nothing more to do with these Americans, their CIA or Mexico and their goddamn cartels. He simply wanted to go home, whatever that meant.

Instead of listening to Graver speak, Alejandro thought back on the events of the night before, when he had finally accomplished his duty and had taken the life of El Verdugo, the man responsible for the deaths of Gloria and Gabriella, among hundreds of others.

Not that he really cared about the others. Not anymore, at least. This hadn’t been a moral crusade for universal justice, and he sure wasn’t the virtuous prosecutor he once had been. It had been an unforgiving hunt for revenge, and nothing more.

Yes, he had formerly taken the high road, convicting dozens of cartel members through his years as a lawyer, but that road had ultimately lead him to where he was now, and it had been his family that had payed the price for his righteous actions.

At last, they were avenged now, and Alejandro could rest.

Except he wouldn’t, of course, because Graver would probably not let him. “We still got work to do, cartels to screw with,” he had said, a morbid excitement present in his voice. Yesterday’s success had clearly gone straight to his head, and the man somehow seemed determined on ridding Mexico of all of its cartels, Alejandro reckoned. _Perhaps he wants to end the war on drugs by himself._

Much to Alejandro’s delight, Graver’s rather _enthusiastic_ monologue finally came to a halt, when his phone began to ring. As he left to answer it, Alejandro sighed and leaned back, definitely enjoying his absence. The silent room agreed much more with him, and he unexpectedly found himself relaxing a bit. He hadn’t actually enjoyed a calm moment in a long time, he thought.

Unfortunately for him, his moment would be short-lived, as Graver’s screams immediately began echoing through the walls. 

“THE _FUCK_ DO YOU MEAN, ON U.S. SOIL?!”

 

* * *

 

In the evening, when her phone rang, Kate thought it might’ve been Reggie, calling to explain his tardiness. While he probably should’ve arrived some time ago, she couldn’t exactly complain, not after the hell she had put him through all morning. Frowning at her phone, she was perplexed to see _Matt Graver_ on the caller ID.

Without a second thought, she dismissed his call. She had nothing to say to him, with the exception perhaps a heartfelt _fuck you_ , and had absolutely no desire to waste her time hearing what he had to say. She was utterly done with him and his bullshit unit.

When he called a second time, Kate was tempted to turn off her phone, but decided against it because of Reggie. Quickly enough though, the ringing stopped, and she hoped he wouldn’t call again.

Surely enough though, he did. Irritated by the obnoxious ringing and, at this point, at least somewhat curious, Kate reluctantly picked up the phone. She figured it would at least get him to stop calling.  

“What?” she answered, coarsely.

“Macer?” he began, “Finally– listen, you need to come down to the landfill by the East Riggs Road, you know where that is?”

“No. I’m done with you and your shit, thank you very much,” she replied, her animosity growing. She considered hanging up on him, but she wanted to vent her anger beforehand, “And what, my signature wasn’t enough? You still think I’m gonna _tell_? Planning on dumping my body there or something?!”

“Well, _hopefully_ it won’t get to that… Besides, your spot’s already taken. Yeah, we’ve already got three unidentified bodies here, really looks like cartel retaliation to me. Not pretty, lemme tell you,” he paused, expecting a reaction on her part. When she gave none, he sighed and went on, “Look, there’s a message for you or something. There’s your name on a wall, right next to the bodies, and no one knows fuck-all. So please, get your pretty ass down here so we can start dealing with this shitstorm, alright?”

Kate was silent, completely bewildered, staring blankly at the floor. Words seemed to fail her, “…wha–” she said, faintly, “I–I don’t… what the fu–” 

“Exactly what we’re all thinking. So get down here, pronto. I’ll text you the address.”

And with that, he hung up, leaving Kate as confused as she was scared, with her jaw dropped in shock. Cartel violence all the way up in Chandler? Wasn’t it unheard of? Just how deluded had she been, thinking she was safe on her side of the border? Again, Alejandro's words resonated in her head.   

_I would recommend not standing on balconies for a while, Kate._

“Oh my god,” she said, burying her face in her hands, “the fuck did I get into?”

Her breathing was erratic now, as she struggled and failed miserably at keeping her composure.

She was now well beyond the reach of breathing therapy. 

 

* * *

 

It was almost an hour later when Kate decided she was capable of leaving her hotel room. Night had fallen, and she had somewhat steadied herself. She had sent Reggie a message, explaining her departure, as well as letting him know where she was going, in case he would want to join in.

Only once seated in her car and approaching the given address did she realize just how terrified she was. Alejandro had wrecked her sense of security, to the point where she had spent her day in hiding, and now she had learned that the cartels wanted something to do with her? Incredulous, Kate was unable to make sense of this situation. Why would they leave a message for her, next to the dead? 

Kate’s stomach turned at the thought of them, as she was anticipating the worst. _Not pretty, lemme tell you_ , Graver’s words kept repeating themselves in her head _._ She shook her head, trying to think of anything but  _that_.

Even though she hadn’t eaten all day, she was still struggling with nausea. She had seen enough corpses for a lifetime, and the thought of being exposed to more made the bile rise to her mouth.

She was edging closer to the landfill now, and she could already see from afar the police cars, their sirens blaring and their lights blinding. A commotion of forensics experts, SWAT teams and police officers were all clustered around what must’ve been the bodies, Kate figured, although they looked nothing like human remains to her, at least not from where she stood. As she turned her car to find a parking spot, she caught a better glimpse of the cadavers, and her jaw dropped in both shock and revulsion.

_JESUS FUCKING CHRIST_

It was a potpourri of various (and sometimes unidentifiable) cuts of flesh, unattached limbs, skinned bones, and all were crowned by a generous coating of blood. 

Eyes widened and mouth agape, Kate felt her whole body convulse, as she was utterly repulsed by the ungodly sight. She immediately turned her head away, and while she hadn’t seen much of the massacre in that fraction of a second, what she had seen had threatened to make her puke the acid out of her otherwise empty stomach.  

_Oh my god. Oh my god._

Kate was hyperventilating now, thinking it was too much for her to handle. From the corner of her eye, she saw Graver waving at her, motioning at her to join them. She wouldn’t remember how on Earth, but she somehow did manage to get out of her car and began walking towards the carnage. In order not to collapse, she had to concentrate on her every inspiration, step, and expiration. As the distance between her and the bodies shrunk, she became increasingly uneasy. When she finally arrived in front of what was left of these people, she was greeted by a red – presumably bloody – message on a wall, next to the bodies: _¿Dónde está la puta Macer?_

Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she inhaled deeply, and began painfully scanning the rest of the putrid scene.   

She would never even notice Alejandro, some mere meters behind her. His presence would’ve unsettled her even further, if it was even possible, but she would never get a chance to acknowledge him.

(Memory was a sly, selective little devil, Kate would learn.)

Even though she would bear in mind this moment for the rest of her life, little of it would she actually remember. While the subsequent bruising of her knees would be evidence of the moment they had finally given in and hit the ground, she would have no memory of it, nor would she remember the shriek that had teared through her throat simultaneously. She wouldn’t even remember Alejandro pulling her away from the slaughter, as she desperately fought his embrace, screeching maniacally.

No, Kate would recall none of these events. The only thing she would specifically remember would be one of the decapitated, partly-dismembered and mutilated bodies. She would remember the dry blood coating it and, underneath it, next to where an arm should’ve been, a slightly faded tank tattoo.   

And she would never be able to forget it.  

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> First of three parts. Part II to be posted during Christmas/New Year’s break. 
> 
> I really enjoyed the succinct time frame of the movie, how everything happened in a matter of only a few days. It allowed for such a detailed, gritty, beautiful story telling. Somewhat in that vein, each part of this story will follow a day in the lives of the characters, although the days will not be consecutive. 
> 
> Next up is actually May 9th, 2019, and a lot will have changed for our Kate. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Constructive criticism and feedback is more than appreciated! 
> 
> Happy holidays! 
> 
> -Levi
> 
> P.S.: My apologies for Reggie.


End file.
